


Ripples, not waves

by saboten



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saboten/pseuds/saboten
Summary: One more conversation that had to be had during the cease-fire party at Punk Hazard.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place during the events of chapter 697.
> 
> You know, I feel like this is just another step to a better understanding of each other, and I kinda missed some kind of closure on the PH events between Zoro and Tashigi. Here’s to hoping for another meeting with some more steps in future arcs.

Tashigi moved on one step as the waiting line at the big fireplace progressed. Calling this cease-fire party anything other than _bizarre_ was an understatement. The whole debacle on Punk Hazard was a high-class event of Fraternization With The Enemy, and this was its epic aftermath. She dreaded the report files. And it’s going to definitely be her who the questionable honor of writing them will befall. But bureaucracy had no place at a time like this (even if Smoker insisted to ring bells to follow protocol of politeness), especially not with people like _this_ , so she filed the thought away in the agreeable distance of her mental To-Do-tray. There were more pleasurable things at hand.

Roronoa Zoro, for example.

She herded the children in front of her to properly stay in line, and then allowed herself another peek. Her eyes have wandered more often than not over to where Zoro sat. Actively working on an alcohol poisoning by the average person’s standard, he looked without a care in the world and even managed to be on good terms with her G-5 subordinates.  
_He’s like a sheathed sword_ , she thought. The lack of any trace of bloodlust was difficult to reconcile with his imposing performance earlier. At this memory (and the one of her humiliation) Tashigi snapped back and berated herself for losing to distraction. But it was a once in a lifetime chance to be this close, and eventually the nagging unrest within her won once again. During their flight from the poisonous gas there was no time to delve into it, but she has not forgotten. And she couldn’t miss out on this. She glanced back to the main group of children. Her new charges were fed and safe and entertained and properly watched over by both the pirates and the marines, so she could at least allow herself some minutes of indulgence. Couldn’t she?  
It would be five minutes only that she took a break off of duty.  
While contemplating the issue of fulfilling her duty versus the burning craving, she pressed her lips together into a thin line.

She could.

When the last child of her small group was armed with a bowl of steaming soup, and she received her own right after, she turned to her charges. “Everyone got some? Good. Can you return to the red-haired big sister on your own? I have something to do, but I’m back in a minute.”

She got cheery nods for a reply. Their food took, as it was the natural course of life in being pitted against the cyborg’s latest antics in any popularity contest, the sad second place. “Alright, big sis. See you!”

She waved the children off and watched them return safely to their current caretakers, and then went over to the group of drinking men. Tashigi’s pulse quickened and her feet grew heavier and heavier with each taken step as she tried to arrange the words she’s going to say into coherent sentences in her tumbling mind.

Her G-5 greeted her with joyous exclaims of “Captain-chan!”s, while Zoro silently acknowledged her presence. She resisted the urge to shrink away from under his gaze, his good eye slit with wary expectation. Though for once she couldn’t blame him for it.

“Roronoa,” she started, “show me your sword.”

She was met with complete silence, accompanied by some gaping mouths and liquor spilled from tilted mugs, forgotten in mid-air.

 _This… might have come out wrong_. Tashigi cleared her throat and tried again. “Could you show Shusui to me, please?”

Zoro stared up at her from where he sat cross-legged, and a gloom sigh escaped him with “ _not this again”_ written all over his face, and then he stared some more. She stared back while the bowl of soup burned her fingers.

Eventually, he asked, “Why?”

“I just want to look at it.”

He stared, as if considering her request, and took a swig from his mug.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it back,” Tashigi added.

By this time her men from the G-5 left their little group in a steady trickle and nervous “see ya, sword bro”-s muttered in retreats as unobtrusive as possible as they have realized that their presence would only be a disturbance to a rather private conversation. Zoro and Tashigi stood in a motionless bubble while all around them the party buzzed on.

“Alright.”

His answer took her by surprise. She all but expected a rejection, and now her face lit up. “Thank you!,” she said and bowed a polite bow. However she has forgotten she still held her soup in her hands, and almost spilled it over Zoro in doing so.

“Whoa, watch out with that!” He has managed to balance out the bowl with his free hand just in time.

“S-sorry!”

He looked annoyed and putting his mug away he muttered under his breath, “I’m going to regret this…” But still he reached behind himself where he’d laid down his swords and held one up towards her. “Shusui.”

 _Beautiful_. The sight knocked out Tashigi’s breath out of her lungs. Nothing prepared her to being this close to one of the 21 Great Grade Swords, and she hardly believed her luck to run into one at such a remote island, today of all days (though it was in the possession of a pirate, but that was a different can of worms).

She grasped at it, awe-struck, solemnly. Zoro observed her, the beast hidden on a leash but skirting the surface as he let go of the blade. A brief flash, and after a second it was sheathed and no one around them looking on was the wiser.

“It’s beautiful.” Her voice came out hoarse.

Zoro nodded. “It is.”

She wanted to draw it, see the blade in its full glory. Her other hand was still occupied by the soup, and clumsily Tashigi looked for an opportunity to put it away. There was only snow on the ground.

“Here.” Zoro took pity on her and offered his hand.

Tashigi blushed a tiny bit. “Ah! Thank you!”

The sword was exchanged for the bowl.

“And now sit down.” With his free hand he patted on the spot next to him.

“Eh?”

“You’re standing out too much when you’re this formal.” Zoro waved his hand in the general direction of a silent sea of eyes, not much different from a herd of sheep in the middle of the night. Tashigi took a hasty look around; left, right – and had to admit that Zoro was right. Her cheeks grew redder. Their audience in vicinity averted their eyes and pretended lively conversation, caught staring red-handed, and over at the cooking pot Sanji seemed undecided whether to look daggers at Zoro or heart-eyes at Tashigi. She hurried to sit down at the offered spot, folding her legs under herself and rested Shusui somberly on her lap. Awkward.

“Sheesh, you’re nothing but trouble, Sword Otaku.” Still, his lips twisted into a grin.

She breathed in sharply, _through the nose_. “It’s Tashigi.” _Not Sword Otaku, not Glasses Captain, not Copycat. Remember it.  
_ Her cheeks burned, but for all that she decided to let this one insult slide and refrain from more radical actions, in case he suddenly would change his mind and demand his sword back before she even managed to have a proper look.

“Suit yourself.”

The gazes and insults were forgotten when she devoted herself to studying Shusui. Even the sheath oozed nobility. A shiver ran down her spine as her gloved fingers ghosted over the decorations along to the flower-shaped hand guard. _Like Shigule,_ though her own blade belonged to a lower class of swords. Tashigi took a deep breath. She looked up and wordlessly asked Zoro one last time for permission, and under his attentive eye she finally drew the blade out of its sheath. “It’s heavy,” she observed as she held it in one hand, pointing it up towards the sky. Its black colour contrasted sharply against the snowy landscape and her eyes followed the red hardening line in admiration. The blade was a masterpiece, as expected from a sword that was a national treasure. This was an experience that couldn’t be conveyed by a pocket guide. “How did you get it?”

Zoro fiddled with the bowl resting on his knee, tense from the question and - knowing her - especially over the potential hassle over his answer. “The former owner acknowledged me.”

“I see.”

He tilted his head. “That’s pretty mellow. Didn’t you go around collecting swords or something?”

“I _do_.” Tashigi lowered Shusui and shot him _a look_. “I aspire to remove all meito misused for dishonorable deeds by criminals, _if you recall_. I want to free them.”

“How do you define which one is in the wrong hands and which one is not?”

“Eh?”

“You won’t take mine. Aside from that you’re way too weak to even try, you don’t want them. Anymore.”

Tashigi bristled. “Says who?! You, a pirate?”

“By your logic I’m a criminal -”

“You are!”

“- and you ought to want to have them,” he said. “But you know me and my story.”

She breathed heavily. He struck something – from the moment she laid her eyes upon it, she never even once was jealous over him owning the sword. Tashigi didn’t want to hear the rest, but the words of objection were stuck in her throat.

“There’s a flaw in your reason. Everyone has a story to tell. Everyone has a reason to fight. Even the bloodiest bastard. So why -”

“Don’t look down on my dream!” Blood rushed through her ears. “Congratulations, you figured out the world! Don’t think it’s this easy. Just because you and your crew are pirates who go around saving people left and right and do good deeds every few steps, don’t you dare to think that the world isn’t full of scum!”

Irritated, Zoro shot right back. “That’s not something you have to break to me - if _you_ recall, I used to be a pirate-hunter! Either you’re strong enough to survive or you die trying! Stop living in your fantasy world!”

“I know!” She looked him down, her chest rose heavy as she tried to catch her breath again. “I know.” In a quieter voice, she added, “You don’t really make it easy to have faith in this kind of justice when your beliefs constantly get turned upside down.”

It stung, and Vergo’s betrayal was still a raw open wound, and right now discussing philosophies and principles was the last thing she wanted to do with Zoro. Especially not when he unerringly put the hook down where it hurt the most.

Uneasy silence settled between them.

He spoke again first; an offering. “Yubashiri died.”

This name brought her back to Logue Town, that fated first meeting that seemed a lifetime ago. _Strange,_ that he wanted her to know. “I am sorry.” Tashigi settled Shusui back onto her lap, folded her hands and then closed her eyes in a silent prayer to honour the lost blade.

 _They_. They shared a past; a quantity of moments of peace between them before the truth of reality has made its entrance.

The weight of that memory was an odd mass within her chest, like an item put on the wrong shelf, like left-over knowledge collecting dust. She didn’t know what do to with it. Keeping it seemed useless but it was too valuable to forget. This glimpse into the possibility of another life didn’t really belong in there. It brought up too many _what if’_ s which were pointless to ponder. She chased after him, however for different reasons.

Alabasta made it hard for her to hate him. And he was right. A pirate? Yes. Criminal scum? Far from it. And after today’s events, after the fight with the snow woman, she needed to reflect on certain aspects of her opinion on him even more.

She felt his gaze on her. “Stop staring, Roronoa.”

“You have changed.”

She watched him cautiously out of the corners of her eyes, brows knitted in confusion. _Is this about the dead… girl? Woman?_ “… I only grew my hair out,” she said. “It’s not that hard to notice.”

Was he going to berate her _now_ for indulging in something that was considered a weak point for a swordfighter to have? She was ready to bristle over his arrogance.

Zoro reached out for her long hair falling over her back, almost catching a strand between his fingers before pulling away. “Yes. But it’s not only this. You’re stronger. Here.” Zoro pointed at her heart.

Tashigi mustered him, searching his face for any indication of sarcasm. She found none. “So are you.”

He nodded, then something else caught his attention. “How’s your shoulder?”

She rested her hand over her bandages. “Good for now. Your doctor did amazing work and thanks to the painkillers I’m not in much pain, at least.” She looked annoyed. “The healing process is going to be a bother when it’ll come to training.”

Zoro offered his advice. “Rip off the bandages. They only immobilize you.”

For a moment she was lost for words. “I… don’t think that’s healthy.”

“Works for me.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Tashigi stared with her mouth open in a perfectly round O shape. Suddenly she had a good idea about how he had spent the last two years, and given his method of dealing with injuries she could pretty well imagine how his training sessions looked like. He truly was a monster.

She thought back to the fight against Monet, thought of the frightening fraction of power that he demonstrated, got lost for a second in the memory of his broad shoulder and the hard muscle underneath, and remembered something. “Ah! Roronoa, thank you for saving me earlier. I didn’t have a chance yet to properly show my gratitude.” It didn’t sit well with her, being saved by and thanking a pirate, in this case especially not by Roronoa Zoro. This man’s existence shook her life to the very core, made her face her limitations - but it also strengthened her resolve. She had managed to pick herself up once, and she would fly again. And she knew her manners. She bowed again.

“I couldn’t leave you there after you fainted, could I. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Flustered, he looked away, his gaze caught on his mug in front of him. “Want some booze?”

She declined. “I’m on duty. And on painkillers.”

He rubbed at his neck. “Good. Good. I wouldn’t share anyway.”

Tashigi couldn’t help but laugh, for the first time in his presence. _He’s so weird_. She picked up Shusui again and continued where she left off. Free from Zoro’s suspicious eyes, she was more at ease when trying to memorize every little detail. A tiny pang of jealousy did grow inside her. But his earlier words resonated within her, and she had to admit again that he hit another nail on the head.

Lost in admiration she didn’t catch it the first times, but shocked whispers that sounded a lot like “indirect kiss” increasingly grew into a bothersome background noise. Just about to snap at her subordinates to keep it down, she looked up from the sword and beheld Zoro with _her_ spoon in _his_ mouth.

A fierce blush grew on her face in agonizing slow-motion as the realization hit her. The observation from her men didn’t help the matter at all.

Zoro shrugged. “What? It smelled good.”

“T-that was mine!” she stammered. Not the point, but the first coherent words to leave her mouth.  

Zoro shrugged again. “Besides, I don’t think the cook is going to serve me anymore.” He pointed towards a wavering mass of darkness over at the pot.

Recovered from her first shock, anger took over. “Oh! You were just too lazy to get yourself a portion and so you just traded your sword for food! You’re so cheap!!”

Zoro fired right back. “What the hell? Don’t drag me into your ridiculous fantasies! There’s plenty food left anyway.”

“So stealing is totally alright?!”

“ _Stealing_?!”

“Oh yeah, you’re a pirate, so such actions aren’t out of place!”

“I voluntarily offered you my booze, ok?!” Zoro shot her a sharp look. “How do you even... Are you seriously getting mad over this.”

“No, I’m getting mad over a dirty pirate dishonoring his sword. And here I thought …!” Even in her fury, she carefully drew Shusui back into its sheath and returned it to Zoro. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she spat at him and stomped off without a second look back.

In one hand his sword, in the other the offending bowl, Zoro stared baffled.

After a few steps and under the burdensome gazes of the audience following their argument, Tashigi made a sudden halt, followed by a perfect U-turn and stomped back to him. Irritation and embarrassment painted her face a deep shade of red as she stood in front of him once again. With jerky motions she grabbed the bowl. “That was mine,” she said.

Zoro watched her leave again, for real this time. Soon she reached the children in her care and her mood seemed to change instantly as soon as they surrounded her.

“Sheesh, nothing but trouble,” he grumbled into his mug.

 


End file.
